Cat Eyes Working Title
by Ella8
Summary: [in progress]
1. Don't Get Caught

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so everyone, R/R please!  I need all the feedback I can get.  This story should span all of Harry's 5th year, and I hope to do sequels as well, so it might get pretty long.  Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Don't Get Caught!**

            It was a cool, quiet summer morning in Privet Drive.  All was still, even the birds, except for one tall, lanky, dark-haired boy sitting on the roof of Number 4.

            Harry Potter stretched out his skinny frame, absent-mindedly picking at a shingle on the roof.  He had been spending a lot of time there lately, ever since his Aunt Petunia had discovered him doing his homework at one o'clock in the morning.  Harry still winced at the memory.

            "Vernon!  Vernon!  Get in here, now!" she had shrieked.  Harry's lumpy uncle had raced into the room as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him, followed closely by his equally obese son, Dudley.

            "What's going on, Petunia?  What is _that child_ doing now?" he'd bellowed, in much the same way that one might ask, "What is this bit of dog poo doing on my shoes?"

            "He's…he's doing _you-know-what_, probably planning to murder us all in our beds," Petunia had yelped, trembling visibly upon uttering these words, as if say them might make them come true.  Dudley, Harry's loathsome cousin, had begun to shake, and quietly snuck out of the room, the floorboards creaking under his enormous mass.

            "Let me see that." Vernon had snatched Harry's parchment away with shaking hands, and he read aloud: "Grug the Gruesome, the famous goblin rebel, had little success with his earlier ventures, such as the Battles of Nubbyville and Toad's Point because—"

"Uncle Vernon, give it back!  I need that, it's my history of—it's my history homework, I just spent five hours working on it, please don't rip it up!" Harry said all in one breath, a bit desperately.  He grabbed in vain for the parchment, but Vernon held it up over his head.

"You know we told you never to do _that _thing in this household!  If it's so important, perhaps I should just rip it up," Vernon had replied.  He waved the parchment suggestively in the air, clearly enjoying this role of power.

Harry had taken a deep breath.  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Uncle Vernon," he had said, as calmly as he could, though his knees quivered under his pyjamas.

Vernon had turned a deep purple shade, all the way from his receding hairline to his almost nonexistent neck.  "Are you _threatening_ me, boy?" he'd roared, infuriated and terrified.  "That bloody school of yours said that they would expel you if you did any more of that…_funny_ business!"

Vernon spit while he talked, and Harry wiped his cheek.  "Yes, they did say that…Hmmm…But that didn't stop me from blowing up Aunt Marge, now did it?  And I wasn't expelled then."

Vernon's face went from deep mauve to ghost white.  It occurred to him suddenly that his only protection against Harry's witchcraft—the threat of expulsion—was not a protection at all.  "Um, but, er, no, now, but then…" Vernon trailed off, his mouth gaping open like a fish's.

Harry smiled triumphantly.  Vernon got his voice back, and squeaked, "Don't you _ever_ threaten me again, you little brat!  Or I'll throw you out of here for good if it's the last thing I do!"  And with that, Vernon strode out of the room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

Harry had been stuck in his bedroom for the rest of the summer.  Vernon couldn't wait to get him out of the house, to school.

Looking back on this, Harry decided that he had should not have acted as he did.  He should have let Vernon splutter along for as long as he wanted, and maybe even rip up his homework.  At least that way, he would not have to spend the rest of the summer inside his room or on the roof.

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That evening, as Harry finished his dinner and cleaned his teeth (thankfully, Vernon let him out of his room twice a day to go to the bathroom) he took out all of the letters from his friends and read them over.  Ron was apparently having a fabulous summer in the Burrow, his home.

_"Harry,"_ his most recent letter read, _"this summer has been excellent.  Percy has been promoted at work.  He's now got Crouch's old job, and so spends almost no time at all at home.  Did you hear he got engaged to Penelope Clearwater?  She's all he'll talk about.  And Fred and George have reopened their joke shop, thanks to you.  They told me about that money you gave them.  Blimey, it must be nice to be rich…"_ He'd gone on, describing playing Quidditch with his brothers on the fields nearby, and on his mum's new obsession with Muggle foods.  _"Dad's got her hooked on one Muggle thing, at least—their food!"_

Hermione, his other best friend, had also written many letters.  _"Harry, please ask those dreadful Muggles you live with if you can come spend the last two weeks of the summer with us.  I've decided to try out Floo Powder with Mum and Dad, so we can take you to Diagon Alley, too.  Please ask them!  Oh!  I had a brilliant idea!  Dad can call that awful uncle of yours and tell him that he's a psychologist and needs to question you for the last bit of the summer!  It'll work, I know it.  He'll make it sound as though you're seriously unbalanced or something, so your relatives won't bother you anymore!  Write back, and with luck, see you soon!"_

Harry had written back very enthusiastically, telling Hermione to ask her parents as soon as possible.  He was still waiting for Hedwig, his owl, to return with her response.  He peered out the window, and saw a faint shape flying towards his window.  That would be Hedwig now!

Harry opened the window, and his snowy owl flew in, and settled on her perch.  Harry sprinted over to her and removed a letter from her leg.  "Hedwig, you're the best!" he whispered, and she preened proudly.  Harry opened the scroll and read the letter written in Hermione's neat writing: _"Harry, my dad's calling tonight!  He's going to say that Dumbledore observed some slightly schizophrenic tendencies in you, but he's not sure, so he asked dad to observe you closely for two weeks.  Obviously, the Muggles won't want a possibly deranged wizard in their house…right?  He's going to offer to pick you up tonight!  He'll tell your uncle to let you bring everything with you, so you'll have an excuse to bring all of your school supplies.  Pack your bags, because soon you'll be out of there!"_

Harry grinned excitedly, then raced around his room, collecting his books, letters, and, of course, his Quidditch supplies.  He grabbed his robes, and all of his other school supplies.  Then, satisfied that he had gotten everything, he sat down on his bed and waited for the phone to ring.

Well, that's it for now!  Please review and tell me what you think!


	2. Escape!

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I've had a LOT of STUFF to do…Studying for finals…Stuff, you know!  I remembered I had this fanfic going last night, and decided to write some more.  This is very rushed, I'm just trying to get another chapter in!  Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Oops, forgot this last time.  Guess what, I'm not J.K. Rowling!  J.K. Rowling does not have mounds of homework, years of tests and unbelievable amounts of studying to do.  At least I doubt it.  I don't own Harry, Ron, Draco (but I wish I did!), or any of the other Harry Potter characters.  : : sigh: :

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**Chapter 2: **

            Harry sat there, completely still, for about a half hour.  Why wasn't Dr. Granger calling?  Finally, Harry heard the faint ringing of the phone.  Dudley yelled, "Harry, get the phone!"

            Harry scrambled down the stairs to the sitting room.  Dudley was sitting less than a meter away from the telephone, staring at the television set and munching greedily on crisps.  He pushed Harry as the smaller boy passed him.  Harry winced as Dudley's pudgy fingers came into contact with the bruises on his arm that Dudley's friend Piers had inflicted the day before.  Dudley smiles in satisfaction at the pain in Harry's face and settling back in his seat to watch the program.  Harry picked up the phone.  "He-hello?" he stuttered, praying that it was Dr. Granger.

            "Hullo, may I please speak with Mr. Vernon Dursley?  This is his nephew's psychologist, Dr. Granger.  Please tell him it's urgent," said the voice on the other end.

            "Oh, hi Dr. Granger!  It's Harry!" Harry squeaked slightly in his excitement.

            "Harry!  It's wonderful to hear from you again, m'boy (a/n: do English people say "boy"?).  Hermione says hello!"

            "I'll go get my uncle now then, sir," Harry said.  He glanced at Dudley, who was engrossed in the telly, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Could you perhaps not mention magic to him, sir?  It might upset him."

            "Of course, of course.  No need to worry!"

            Harry put the phone down and shouted, "Uncle Vernon!  Telephone for you!"

            Vernon lumbered down the stairs and snatched the phone.  "Yes?" he barked.  "Yes, this is Vernon Dursley.  You're _what_?!"

            Harry snuck back upstairs and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.  Over the summer, he's received some Muggle glow-in-the-dark stars, which Ron's older brothers Fred and George had bewitched to spray water whenever someone said "Good night."  Harry plucked them off the ceiling and stuffed them into his trunk along with his school supplies.  Then he lay back down and waited for the yells.

            If he strained his ears, he could hear Vernon's rumbling voice still on the phone with the doctor.  His uncle's voice was sort of soothing from a distance, and Harry began to nod off.  Then Harry suddenly heard Aunt Petunia shriek, "WHAT?!" and he almost leapt out of bed.  He listened to her quick footsteps pitter-pattering up the stairs, and composed his face into a mask of innocence, trying to conceal a grin.

            "Boy!  Harry!" she squealed, her voice quivering.  "Pack your bags now, you're going on a little _trip_ for the rest of the holidays!" she yelped, and pounded on the door for good measure.

            He opened the door slowly, and asked sweetly, "Where am I going, Aunt Petunia?" then smiled devilishly.

            "Don't ask questions!" she began to snap, then stopped herself.  "Just for a visit!" she exclaimed brightly.  "Come on, now, hurry up!" Then she bustled back down the stairs.

            Harry remained seated on the bed, thinking how nice it was to have a few moments to himself.  Then he sat up, and dragged his trunk around the room a few times to make it sound like he was packing.

            Twenty minutes later, Harry heard a car horn outside, and he leapt to his feet and grabbed his trunk and his owl Hedwig's cage.  "Harry," Uncle Vernon called, his voice cracking.  "Your car's here!"

            Harry raced down the stairs as fast as his trunk would allow.  "Bye, Aunt Petunia!  Bye, Uncle Vernon!  Bye, Dudley!  See you next hols!"  Then he sped out the door and towards the car as the door to the house slammed behind him.

            He saw the vaguely familiar face of Hermione's father getting out of the car.  "Hullo, Dr. Granger!" Harry called out.  "Thanks so much for rescuing me!"

            "Of course, of course," replied the doctor a little nervously.  "Hermione told me it was urgent, and from the sound of that fellow on the phone, it was.  Didn't sound too pleasant to me.  And I am a 'doctor,' so really, it wasn't much of a stretch.  I threw in a few dentistry terms just to confuse him, and that was that!  Now," he continued, more briskly, "do get in the car, Hermione's been frantic to see you!"

            Harry threw his trunk into the back of the cage, stowed Hedwig in the front seat, and climbed in next to the brown-haired figure on the driver's side.  Keeping her face turned away from him, Hermione began to speak, "Oh Harry I'm so glad we've got you out of there your family sounds awful Dad told me how mean your uncle was to him and I can't turn around because what if they recognize me and realize it was a lie you could get in serious trouble with the Muggles Dumbledore said it was okay if we rescued you but I wasn't sure if the police would see it the same way!"

            Head spinning a little from the deluge of words, Harry replied, "Thanks so much, Hermione, the summer was getting to be so awful!  They locked me in my room again, just for doing my homework.  Honestly, it was terrible…"  Then he trailed off, at a loss for words.

            Dr. Granger started the car.  After a few moments, Hermione turned around.

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Um, I don't know what to say after this yet.  SORRY!  Please please please review!


	3. Authors Note

Hello, my darlings!  It occurred to me after reading Laterose's "Fifth Year? I Haven't Done My Homework!" that this fanfic is now officially an AU of sorts.  Hmmmmm.  Oh, well.  Now I'm going upstairs to finish re-reading GOF so I can start OOTP.  I promised myself I wouldn't start the fifth until I'd reread the entire series.  It's torture, honestly, but I WILL succeed.  I haven't even peeked, I'm so proud of myself!  Hahaha.

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Oh, and by the way, this is my **PERMANENT **disclaimer, because I don't feel like writing it again.  I am not the genius J.K. Rowling, I don't own any of her magnificent characters, blah blah blah.

Please read and review, my fabulous readers!  All six of you!  Heehee…

Toodles!

Elle


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